


I Said I'm Sorry/You Remembered

by S_Hylor



Category: The Losers (2010)
Genre: Cougar/Jensen because this is me, Gen, M/M, Mild Blood, Pre-Slash, accidental injury, ask box fic, blood noses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-16
Updated: 2016-06-16
Packaged: 2018-07-15 12:39:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7222714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/S_Hylor/pseuds/S_Hylor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Jensen needs to stop failing while talking, and Cougar is sentimental.</p>
<p>Ask Box fic for the prompt "Accidentally punched you in the face while gesturing - Cougar/Jensen"</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Said I'm Sorry/You Remembered

**Author's Note:**

> Not beta'd. 
> 
>  
> 
> It feels like forever since I've written a Losers fic. I hope I've still got the knack for it.

It was entirely an accident. Jake is 99.82% sure that it was entirely an accident. He really didn't mean anything by it at all. Really. 

But still, that ridiculously scary and ridiculously hot special forces sniper everyone called Alvarez is standing there with blood dripping from his nose and murder in his eyes. 

Fuck. 

Jake is so dead it isn't funny. 

He is going to die young, before he's even finished his spec ops training, and Jess is going to have to get him a grave stone with some fitting carved into it. Something like "signed his own death certificate by accidentally punching a sniper in the face." 

Because it was totally an accident. 

"I. Am. So. Sorry." He really doesn't know what else he can possibly say. 

Alvarez tilts his head to one side, eyes flashing dangerously beneath the brim of his hat. 

Jake takes it to mean he wants further explanation. Or maybe he's just going to kill him before he has a chance to apologies properly. 

Either way, he'd better get talking. 

"I really didn't mean to. I was just, talking?" Jake cringes because that sounds terrible. But in truth he had been just talking. Epically. With his hands. Because he never could just stand still and have a conversation. Especially not when his new friend Pooch needed to be educated on the wonder that is the Star Wars expanded universe. Well, the wonderful parts. Not the bits that Jake chose to ignore. 

Pooch coughs out something that really isn't very subtle at all. "You are so dead." 

Like Jake needs the reminder. 

Alvarez wipes at the blood beneath his nose, flicking it off his fingers onto the ground. Which is either totally badarse or totally unhygienic. Jake can't decide. 

"I'm really sorry. I definitely didn't mean to do that at all. I mean, only a crazy person would punch you in the face of purpose. And I'm not a crazy person." 

"Bullshit." Pooch coughs not so helpfully. 

"Shut up, Linwood." Jake knows pulling out the real names makes things serious. But this is a very serious situation. He is totally going to die young. 

Scrabbling in his pocket, Jake pulls out his handkerchief, offering it to the very pissed off looking sniper. "It's clean, I promise. Washed and ironed yesterday. Totally clean and snot free." 

Alvarez accepts it after a long dubious look, blotting away the blood from his nose. He tilts his head again, then just shakes his head and rolls his eyes, muttering something under his breathe before turning and walking away. 

Jake wants to collapse into a puddle of nervous goo and not re-establish himself as a human for at least another six months. Maybe nine. 

"Thought you were dead there for sure, Jay." Pooch claps him on the shoulder, as a show of comfort. 

Jake nods. He definitely thought he was dead for a full five minutes there. "Just wait, I'll be dead within a week I'm sure." 

Pooch shrugs, then nods. "Probably. Pretty sure he just said you talk too much, by the way." 

That really doesn't make Jake feel any better. 

~*~*~

Years later they're following yet another lead to try and track down Max. Their team is down to four, because Pooch was threatened with death and castration if he even thought about running off again and leaving Jolene to look after their son alone. 

Jensen really can't blame him, if he had his own family like that, he's want to stay home too. As it is, he has Jess and Beth, but they're used to him going off all the time. 

And then there's Cougar. 

Jensen knows he'd follow Cougar anywhere. 

Aisha, however is another matter entirely. 

Jensen would not follow that crazy bitch anywhere. Woman seems far too obsessed with hurting him. First getting shot, and now he's got blood dripping down his face because she felt the urge to punch him in the face. 

Well, he might have earned that, she did tell him several times to shut up, but Jensen really hates being told to shut up. He likes talking. Everyone knows that. 

At least he's still got his ears. 

Cougar steps in between Jensen and Aisha before it can escalate, turning to the techie and gripping his chin and titling his head back. 

"Ow, careful Cougar." Jensen whines, feeling something pressed against his nose. He smacks Cougar's hand away, because as much as he loves being the centre of Cougar's attention, this isn't making him feel manly and tough at all. 

Cougar raises an eyebrow at him in response, so Jensen just snatches the handkerchief from the sniper's hand that is already covered in his blood. He goes to press it back to his nose when he notices something. 

In the corner of the handkerchief, starting to fray, and two little stitched letters. 

J. J.

"Oh. Hey." Jensen touches the letters, pressing them between his thumb and forefinger. He remembers Jess frantically stitching letter into a dozen handkerchiefs the day before he went off the basic. He thought he'd lost all of them. Especially this one. That he gave to Cougar back before he even knew him. "You kept it?" 

Cougar's hand touches his face again, this time more gentle, palm cupping his cheek. Jensen looks up and sees the exasperated fond expression in Cougar's eyes. It's a look he really could get used to. 

"Of course, parlanchín." Cougar tilts his head to one side, lips tugging up in one corner. 

"Thought you were going to kill me that day. Thought I was dead for sure." Jensen tries to grin, but it tastes like blood and hurts his face, so he settles for pressing the handkerchief back to his nose. 

Cougar narrows his eyes, and Jensen knows that he's going to die one day. But it won't be by Cougar's hand. 

It'll be at his side. 


End file.
